The Adventures of Us
by rainy-october-972
Summary: A story from Hannah Abbott's point of view of some of the most important and beautiful events/moments with Neville. (Basically a collection of fluffy one-shots.)
1. Breathe

Rain, pounding hard on the greenhouse roof.

Inside, silence.

It is a cold day. Colder than any I have experienced through seven years at Hogwarts. My defenses have been stripped away this year, and there is nothing left to help me cope with this, my greatest loss.

Nothing but the boy in front of me.

Our eyes are fixed on each other. They tunnel deep, into the other's mind, into our darkest parts, seeing what cannot be seen. And we are one. I know Neville as no one else has – his secrets and wishes and what he will someday become – and he knows me – my past and my demons and my fragile hopes, parts of me that even I cannot see clearly through the shadows that threaten to engulf me.

I blink, breaking the stare, and we melt into each other seamlessly by some unspoken agreement. As the rain washes over everything, he holds me. Sometimes stroking my hair, untangling the locks that I have paid little attention to in the last few weeks. Sometimes saying my name, repeating it softly over and over in the quiet like a litany. _Hannah, Hannah, Hannah._

For hours we are wrapped in each other. The words keep replaying in my head – _your mother has been found dead_ – until he chases them away with my name. _Hannah. _I try to think of other things, but my mind keeps returning to the present. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's new regime. The hours spent in Muggle Studies listening to lectures about how filthy and destructive and foolish nonmagical people are. The nights in the Room of Requirement, terrified of what would happen if our meetings were discovered. The fact that my mother, my best friend, is no longer breathing.

And the boy in this greenhouse with me.

I would not be alive if it were not for his friendship. No, his love. He is the only one who has ever told me that I look beautiful, the only one who does not see me as just another Hufflepuff girl, the only one who has kissed me and told me to never give up. And he would not have done many of the things he has done this year were it not for my encouragement, my cheering him on, telling him to believe in himself. We have been each others' saviors this year, this hellish, frightening year.

We sit and we breathe together, inhale and then exhale, inhale and then exhale. We are broken, but we hold each other together. I do not know how the time passes – whether it is sluggish or like quicksand this evening, for now it seems to stand still.

Breathe.

Heal.

This is where we belong – together, in each others' arms, hearts beating as one.

As the rain washes over everything, I allow myself to believe, to see a small ray of hope emerging in my life. There have been so many losses and so much suffering. But maybe we can grow back together.

I smile – a tiny smile, but the first one in a multitude of days – and so does he. He whispers, "We're going to be okay, Hannah. We really are," and I reply, "I know we are."

_Because you have me and I have you._

No matter what happens, we will carry on.


	2. Different

Neville's hand, intertwined with mine under the table, is cold like the bones we have tried to mend. Madam Pomfrey is much better at healing than we are but with so many people wounded – or worse (but I will not think about the _worse_, not yet) – we had to do our best.

We. I squeeze his hand, and he smiles wanly. We have become one, an inseparable unit, feeling and knowing each other from the inside out, no words necessary. We aren't perfect – hardly, even less so today with the fallen surrounding us and the castle crumbling and everything seeming now quite worth it even after all that has been won in the last twenty-four hours. But we are together, and that is what keeps us from falling apart.

Activity continues around us, but an eerie sort of quiet permeates the castle. Everyone can feel it, and it's as if for the first time in months we have the same heart. Caught in limbo between grief and triumph, the urge to laugh and the overwhelming need to cry. Nobody knows what to do, so we settle on the edges of both.

I take a moment and isolate myself from the us, try to fully take in the boy – no, man; he is no longer a child, that is plain – sitting on the bench beside me. Neville Longbottom, the boy who could never quite fit in. Dust and blood still covers his hands, clings to his sweater; he is covered in bruises and his hair is the longest it's ever been. I look at the sword gleaming on the table in front of him, the tired but defiant expression on his usually gentle façade, and remember what I heard not too long ago. If what they say is true, he – Neville, my Neville – could have been the Boy Who Lived. He could have been the one to bring about the destruction of the most dangerous creature wizardkind has ever known. The one to die. I grasp him even more tightly, and he removes his gaze from the High Table and focuses on me.

"Hannah," he says softly, "it's okay. It's over now, it's all over."

"No, it's not. You know that. There's so much to be done." He nods. It's true. I don't think it will be over, fully over, for a very long time. Perhaps years. But after a minute, I add, "But you're right. It's okay."

"Yes."

We sit in silence for a moment more. Then he breaks the silence, and there is something strange in his voice that I can't quite place. I would say it was nervousness, but that can't be right – he is Neville and I am Hannah.

"What happens now? With – us, I mean. What's next?"

I think about this before I answer. "I don't know. It will be different. No more fear."

"Will we be the same?" Now I'm sure, he is nervous. And I am a little bit, too. It seems that we can't entirely escape from our sky, awkward selves, despite everything.

"I…I don't know. I want to be."

He nods. "I do too. Except – except not the same, you know? Never mind. I…maybe different is good. Sometimes."

I look at him. He seems embarrassed, and I don't understand what he means. A small part of me starts to panic, though I try to push it away.

I don't know what I would be without him. He has saved me from the world, from myself, and without him I may fall back into the despair and feelings of inadequacy that have plagued me all my life. And surely, he feels the same about me? To an extent, at least. We have helped each other through this year and into our best selves. What are we when there is not that?

"If…if you need some time alone, I'll…" I don't know. Hide? Run away?

Neville looks at me quickly, and in the second his eyes meet mine I feel as if something piercing has gone straight through my heart. Or stomach, I can't tell. "Hannah, of course not. That's not what I meant. No."

I look down, ashamed of this foolish thought but thankful. "But what do you mean? How is different good?" Security is good. I don't like changes. I am a scared little girl and I do not like feeling out of control.

"I just…what I was trying to say…" He shakes his head. "Hannah, I want to be by your side for the rest of my life. I want to grow back with you. I don't want to ever lose you and I don't want to leave and I just want us to be okay, really okay. Because I know that we can do anything and everything as long as we have each other, and that is the most important thing for me right now. So I don't want to change _us_, but I want us to change. For the better. That probably doesn't make any sense, but I know that you know what I mean."

In answer, I kiss him. And it's as if we have never kissed before – although we have, several times, in sadness and loneliness and rare moments of joy. But this one is different, and I think it's the best.

We pull each other closer, and it doesn't matter that we are sitting on a wooden bench with a table in front of us and people surrounding us on all sides. Energy seems to radiate from my mouth to my toes, and it's like I can almost feel myself healing already, growing back as he says, a weather-battered flower finally rising from the dirt into something with real beauty. And when I thought we were as close as two humans could be, physically and emotionally, I feel myself being bound even more tightly to the essence of him, my Neville. We are two hearts beating as one and it is the most incredible and hopeful thing I have ever experienced. And I'm sure that he feels it too.

Finally after what could have been seconds or minutes or days, but which I am sure was eternity, we break apart, hands still entwined, breath coming fast, eyes meeting, the first smiles in months coming to our faces. It seems insane and rather indecent that our happiness has finally come amidst so much suffering, but who are we to object? I'm sure that the people who died fighting so valiantly for Hogwarts, for this castle and also this world, would be smiling too if they could see us and understand us in this moment.

I tuck myself back under his arms, wrapping mine around my knees, and give him a look that means _I love you_. And I say "You're right. Change can be good. And it certainly makes things more interesting."


	3. Perfect

The door swings open as I approach, the bells over top jangling merrily. It shuts behind me silently and I glance around, smiling.

Madame Dupont never fails to impress. I was here weeks ago, and it's as if it is an entirely new restaurant. The tall, bright windows and the gleaming honey-colored floor are the same as always, but things have been spiced up for the holidays. The circular wooden tables have been adorned with floaty silver cloths that somehow conjure up the image of snow, which is actually falling from the low, decorated ceiling, vanishing when it gets within a few inches of the customers' heads. Mistletoe and holly wreaths cover every corner, and a familiar Celestina ballad – my favorite – rings out through the room.

I begin to weave my way carefully through the clusters of tables and chairs, looking for Neville. He's usually late, but perhaps he'll surprise me today. Madame Dupont, looking up from polishing a patterned teacup, sees me and waves enthusiastically. I smile and wave back. She sets down the teacup, leaving it to clean itself, and makes her way over hurriedly.

"Why, hello there, Hannah. It's been a while? How are you, my dear? Are things going well over at Leaky?"

"Just fine, thanks, Eliza. Haven't been getting much sleep lately, what with Tom getting on a bit, but who needs sleep anyway? It's lovely work. And you? How are things here? I see the Golden Teacup has been decorated well," I say, nodding at a floating holly wreath a few feet away."

She beams at me. "You're too kind, dear. Everything is all right here. We're getting busy for the holidays, of course. Nothing like Christmas to boost business, especially when your business is hot beverages. How's your Neville doing?"

"Oh, he's fine too, I was just looking for him. He was supposed to meet me here, but you know Neville." I laugh. "Probably forgot again. I'm sure he'll remember soon enough, though. He always does in the end."

She nods vigorously. "Yes indeed, that's his way. Rather like you in some cases, I must say – " she winks at me – "but perhaps that is a good sign."

I smile. "I sure hope so, Eliza. I'm going to go save us a table, but I would love to talk with you more later. I don't get over here often enough."

"Yes, you really must stop by more often. I'll see you around, then. Let me know if you need anything!" She disappears with another cheery wave. I look around a bit before settling on a cozy table right next to the crackling fireplace. Settling down, I look at my watch. Quarter past four. I do hope that Neville shows up soon. I feel guilty already about leaving Tom – he's been getting so forgetful and he can barely lift a chair these days – but I can't feel too guilty when I think about spending a whole hour with Neville.

I pass the time idly looking through the menu propped up in the middle of the table. It's too early for supper, but the puddings look absolutely splendid as usual, and it's all I can do not to order the lot. Instead I ask Stephan, the quiet but friendly server, for a butterbeer with chocolate syrup and whipped cream, and a peppermint hot chocolate for Neville. He returns within seconds with the drinks, and I try not to take too many sips as I wait.

About two minutes later, I see a whirlwind of snowflakes outside, and sure enough, a second later Neville hurries in the door, damp and untidy. He looks upset – probably frustrated that he, again, is late. I smile to myself.

He notices me and his face lights up immediately. This makes me blush a little, glowing. God, I've missed him. It's only been about a week – he had to go to Belgium for some Auror training program – but I haven't realized just how painful his absence was until now, when he is finally here in front of me, only yards away, and swiftly closing that space with eager strides. His hair is adorably mussed-up, and his coattails snap haphazardly around his ankles as he makes his way over.

"Hey, stranger," I say when he slips into the chair opposite me.

"Hello to you too," he replies, leaning over the table to give me a long kiss to which I respond enthusiastically. After probably way too long, we break apart and he grins at me, his brown eyes warm. I feel myself melt a little on the inside. I look down at the table, the corners of my mouth turned up. I can feel his gaze still on me, but after a moment he picks up his mug and takes a long sip, sighing appreciatively. I raise my own glass to my lips, having almost forgotten about it.

After an appropriate pause in which we enjoy our drinks, I say, "So how was Belgium?"

"It was all right," he replies, looking up from his mug. "I learned a lot. We spent two whole days on search-and-destroy. I missed you more than anything, though." He says this a bit shyly, then adds, "Ron and Harry send their love."

"Mmm," I say. "I missed you too. Probably more than you missed me," I suggest teasingly. He raises his eyebrows in contradiction.

"Nah, impossible. I'm sure you had a lot more fun here. The Leaky Cauldron's a much better boyfriend than I am, I'd wager."

I laugh and reach across the table to smack him playfully. "Rubbish! No one could be better than you."

"But you had a good time, eh?"

I can't help but to concede. "All right, maybe a little. Tom is pretty good company even though I do most of the work nowadays, and the guests are always interesting. You should have seen the crowd we had on Thursday! I think they must have been vampires. I kept a safe distance just in case…"

As I tell him about my adventures as second-in-command at Leaky – stories of unruly drunkards and my new duties, and the beginnings of my efforts to secure a more permanent post there – I can tell that, although he's interested, he's not really paying attention. He's preoccupied with something, something that is making him nervous. His fingers are trembling slightly, slipping on the sides of his mug, and his eyes are darting around. I almost ask him, but I think maybe I'm imagining it. Maybe it's just the regular awkwardness between us that's always been there whenever we do a boyfriend-and-girlfriend sort of activity. It's not a bad awkward, though. We're just sort of a cute, clumsy, blushing couple who still don't know enough about romance to know if we're doing this right. I ignore the strangeness, not wanting anything to be wrong, wanting to continue being happy on this perfect date. Maybe that's foolish. I push the thought away.

"So," I finish, "I guess my week was pretty eventful, and not as horrid as it could have been. Still missed you more, though."

He smiles, not altogether happily. "I doubt it."

"But enough about me, I want to hear about your epic adventures in Belgium. Fighting crime day and night with the likes of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, there must have been _something_ interesting in that."

"Ehh, not really. Nothing I'm not used to. After defeating Lord Voldemort – " I can't help the shiver that goes up my spine at that name, no matter how much I know I shouldn't fear the name of a monster long gone – "everything else is sort of tea and biscuits, you know?"

"Neville Longbottom, you are really something," I say, laughing. I lean over to kiss him again. It's just as good as the first kiss, but I can tell he's holding back something, and when a few seconds have passed, he's the first to pull away.

Okay. I can't ignore it anymore. Something is wrong. I meet his eyes, noticing how his cheeks are beginning to turn red again.

"Neville?"

"Hmm?"

"What's the matter?"

He looks away. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" His hands have retreated underneath his cloak and he seems to be groping around for something. "Something seems wrong. What's going on?"

"Nothing, really."

"What-"

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Okay. I'm okay, Hannah. Can you just…can you just do a favor, and not say anything for a minute?"

I start to ask a question, but stop. "All right."

"Good. Thanks." He takes another deep breath, pushes his chair back slightly. Then he looks directly at me and begins to talk in a shaky but a bit more confident voice.

"Hannah, I know I was only away for a week, but when I was there it felt like so much more than that. I couldn't stop thinking about you, practically all day every day. It was great, but I didn't want to be there, I wanted to be with you. And it was worse because even after everything, I felt like I never really got to tell you how much you mean to me.

"So….I love you. I really do. I know that we've been through a lot, you and I, and I know we had separate lives before we met and we went through a lot during that too. But all of it, all the losses and pain, it's just made us stronger. Sometimes I forget that I've changed for the better, but I look at you and you remind me exactly what I fought for, am fighting for, and I know that if you have become such an incredible person, I must have made some progress too if only because of being around you. So I really am thankful for that, so much, and there's not a day that I don't wonder at this cruel and beautiful world that took everything away from me but also gave me you." He takes a breath, not letting his eyes stray a millimeter from mine. My heart is thumping wildly. Oh God, is this really happening?

"Maybe it's all just a dream, a fantastic, perfect dream that's too good to be true and that will soon fade away. Maybe I don't get to keep you. But I want to take a risk and believe that it's real. Because, Hannah Abbott, I love you and you're beautiful and I would be the luckiest man on earth if I could spend the rest of my life with you. Whether I'm miles away fighting for my life and our country or lying next to you watching you breathe, the most important thing to me is that I get to be with you for just a little bit longer." He laughs nervously. "That may just have been the most nonsensical and inadequate thing I've ever said, but you know I'm not good at words, and I hope that you understand at least a little of what I mean. So, Hannah?"

And now he's done it, he is out of the chair and on one knee on the gleaming floorboards, looking at me with an expression that sums up everything he could ever say and everything I could ever want and it seems like the whole world is frozen, teetering on the edge, waiting breathless with me, until he gets out the box and opens it to reveal an beautiful, ornate silver ring and he says with more confidence than I've ever seen, "Will you marry me?"

I think I am crying. I say yes, then kiss him, our lips saying more than I could put into words in this moment. I think back to about three years ago – no, _exactly _three years, he remembered the precise date – when we first kissed in a secluded corner of the library. He's right. We have come so far. Nothing has been perfect in our relationship, but it has been more than enough, and I think that this moment is the first of many perfect things to come to us.

Vaguely I register the fact that more than half of the restaurant is now heartily cheering for us, Eliza included, and that he is now slipping the ring onto the designated finger. I pull my head back a little to get a closer look at it. It is one of the most beautiful things I've seen. Instead of gemstones, which I think are silly and useless anyway, tiny little vines wrap around the smooth silver surface, leaves and blooms shooting out in all directions. "Thank you," I whisper, "it's perfect," and he squeezes my hand in reply.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he says. "It's too crowded."

"I agree. Let's go back to your flat."

"Sounds good to me." He clasps both of my hands in his and we Apparate together out of the restaurant and into the familiar living room. I land on top of him on the couch, and he holds me tight.

"Oh, and in case you were wondering," I whisper, "I love you too."

The corners of his mouth twist up in a quiet, perfect Neville smile.

"And that's why."


End file.
